


Connect the Dots

by turnyourankle



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-01
Updated: 2008-03-01
Packaged: 2018-04-21 09:36:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4823984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnyourankle/pseuds/turnyourankle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ease with which Ryan pushes Jon down shouldn't be surprising. Jon knows Ryan is stronger than he looks and that he knows what he's doing, heel of his palms pressing against Jon's shoulder blades.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Connect the Dots

  
The ease with which Ryan pushes Jon down shouldn't be surprising. Jon knows Ryan is stronger than he looks and that he knows what he's doing, heel of his palms pressing against Jon's shoulder blades.   
  
Once Jon's lying down, Ryan's hands move, tracing Jon's ribs with his thumbs, teasing, and Jon has to concentrate on the firm strokes; he's so fucking aware of Ryan's warm body against his back he can picture Ryan biting his lips, and touching himself. Jon's already hard, and he could come from rubbing himself against the bed, the sheets providing satisfying friction. He doesn't want to come this soon, though. He keeps his eyes open, looking at the pillow in front of him.  
  
Ryan's breath is hot against Jon's spine when he moves down, fingers sliding inside the hem of Jon's boxers and tugging them down. Jon can feel Ryan pressing a wet kiss against the small of his back, and another further down, tongue poking at the dip above his ass, and then no more: mouth and breath and fingers gone. If Jon couldn't feel Ryan's weight between his legs he'd think he left. He wants to see what Ryan's doing, but turning around isn't an option. He swallows instead, kicking his bunched up boxers off the bed. He moves back a little, hoping Ryan gets the hint.   
  
There's a faint sucking sound, and a smack, and before Ryan's fingers are at Jon's ass, and Jon has to hiss a breath, jerking at the touch. A wet finger slips inside Jon's ass, inching in slowly. Jon has to bite the pillow at the intrusion, eyes firmly screwed shut now, the stimuli too intense for distractions. Ryan is still, moving his finger with small increments, and Jon can feel the blood rushing through his ears and in his dick. He'd grind against the mattress if it didn't mean Ryan's finger would slip out. He tries to push back, but Ryan's hand is firm around his waist, holding him in place. It's too fucking slow--Jon knows it has to be, but that doesn't mean he has to like it.  
  
"Tell me what you want," Ryan says against Jon's jaw, voice hoarse. It would sound detached, clinical even, if it weren't for the hitch in his breath when Jon shivers under him. Jon doesn't want to say anything, so he bucks up against Ryan's fingers, forcing the movement to continue. Ryan's finger is in all the way now, twisting just the tiniest bit. Jon can feel each knuckle against his ass when Ryan moves his hand.  
  
"Fucking hell," Jon grunts when Ryan crooks his finger inside of him, finding the right spot and rubbing against it. It's not enough, not nearly enough. "More--just. Ugh, more."  
  
Jon can feel another finger nudging his ass, and he has to stay still as Ryan works at getting it in. It's wetter than the other was, slicker, and it's easier than Jon remembers. The stretch and burn stings a little, but he knows what's coming and he savors the feel. Ryan thrusts his fingers slowly, crooking them ever so slightly each time they're thrust in all the way. "This it? This all that you want?" Ryan asks, and he sounds out of breath, voice trembling.   
  
Jon can feel Ryan's dick rubbing against his leg, and he smirks, face still half-buried in the pillow. Jon shakes his head, thrusts back against Ryan's hand. "You  _know_."  
  
Ryan bites Jon's ear, not hard enough to even dent, just making his presence known and insists, "Then  _tell_  me."   
  
The smirk disappears when Ryan slips another finger in Jon's ass, and it's unexpected. The stretch welcome, and Jon shivers, goosebumps spreading across his back. He lets out a soft, "Gnrghh," and rests his weight on his forehead as he arches into the touch. Ryan moves his fingers slowly, and his other hand is flat against Jon's stomach, so very close to his dick but just. Not. Touching.   
  
"Can't hear you," Ryan says, voice distant. Jon clenches around Ryan's fingers, but he won't budge. His hand is still, and everything is too tense, too exposed, too much.   
  
"Fuck me, I want you to fuck me," Jon mumbles. He's surprised he can even speak right now. Ryan doesn't seem satisfied, and Jon has to concentrate to continue, "I want your cock in my ass, fingers around my cock and God, just. Fuck, Ryan, please.  _Ryan_."   
  
Ryan scrambles behind him, and his hands disappear from Jon's body. Jon feels empty and he takes the opportunity to spread his legs more, and he revels in the sound of Ryan's uneven breath behind him. He's taking his time doing whatever it is he's doing, and Jon jerks himself a few times, smiling at how Ryan's breath tapers off. The direct contact is almost too much right now, even if it is his own hand. This isn't what Jon wants, so he lets go, and waits for Ryan to come back. A condom wrapper lands somewhere near Jon's head, and covers are kicked around before Ryan is pressing against him again, thighs trembling against Jon's.   
  
There's a pause as Ryan fits himself against Jon, carefully pressing his dick against Jon's ass. He presses inside so slow, too fucking slow, but he's in charge right now and Jon won't move. There's a a sharp inhale from Ryan when he thrusts in all the way, and Jon can hear a soft, "Oh,  _oh_. Fuck."   
  
Jon can't help himself, slurs, "That's right," before shifting his weight and thrusting back on Ryan's dick.   
  
Ryan goes with it, quiet save for the occasional grunts. It's like he can't believe he's doing this, fingers gracing the nape of Jon's neck, curving around his jaw. Jon turns his head, licking Ryan's palm, and he can feel Ryan's body tense and then relax as he meets Jon's thrusts, regaining a little bit of composure. It's erratic, and the co-ordination is off, but Jon wouldn't have it any other way: if anything, Ryan's head resting on his back and his arms around his chest makes it all worth it.   
  
Ryan's mouth is open against Jon's back, and he lets out a hot breath with every thrust. Drops of sweat slide over Jon's skin, and it feels like his entire body's humming; skin prickling and nerves demanding more attention. All of Jon's muscles feel taut, and there's a tightness pooling at the base of his cock.   
  
"Fuck, I'm not gonna--" Ryan stiffens behind him, body trembling from the effort. His fingers wrap around Jon's dick, tighter and he strokes him roughly, fingers sweaty. He's slowing down, trying to stay in control. Jon keeps pushing back; he's not going to last long either.  
  
"Shh, s'okay, just..." Jon scrunches up his face, the tension in his gut turning to knots. Ryan jerks behind him, leaning down he hits just the right angle and Jon gasps. "There--just, there okay, fuck."   
  
Ryan repeats the motion, and again, each time with less force but it doesn't matter. "Fuck, Jon," he says with a gasp before going limp against Jon's back. His fingers are still squeezing Jon's cock, and he jerks it until Jon shivers against him, collapsing on the bed and almost trapping Ryan's arm under him.   
  
Jon lets out an  _mmm_  as he twists around, helping Ryan to slip out. Jon's sticky and his limbs feel like rubber, but he doesn't really care right now. Jon pulls Ryan up and kisses him, pulling him closer with one hand spread out across his back.   
  
Ryan's hair is sticking up allover the place and his face is flushed, but Jon can feel some tension in his shoulders, and he doesn't let go until it's gone; Ryan's mouth and tongue soft against his, body flush against his side. 


End file.
